by Amy Sumida
“Yes, Sir,” Eli whispered.
“What the fuck is going on, Devon?” I hissed.
“I'm having a disagreement with a couple of gentlemen. It's being handled.” Slate squeezed my hand. “You're fine; get out there and sing.”
“Who's Binx?”
“My brother.”
“You have a brother named Binx?” I asked in shock. “Your parents must have been some interesting people.”
Slate's shoulders shook a little as he turned away, but he didn't let the laughter loose, and he didn't say anything more. I scowled at him as he stomped down the hallway. The stone thudded under his boot heels.
“You in trouble?” Eli asked me.
“Always.” I winked at him.
Eli gave a little relieved laugh but his eyes remained worried. “Well, you heard him; get out there. They've been waiting for you.”
The dance floor was already full of eager bodies; restlessly moving to whatever Eli had been playing as they waited for me to give them what they really wanted. The music they needed to be able to gyrate all their troubles away. The song ended and faded into silence. I stepped out onto the stage and every face there turned to me eagerly. Two seconds later, they were shouting and clapping.
“Well, this is a surprise,” I said into the microphone.
They laughed; the ones closest to me calling out encouragement and praise.
“You know; I haven't done a lot of singing simply to entertain people. I mean; the non-bloody kind of entertainment.”
The crowd laughed, but I saw Slate tense; his head shifting to stare at me over his shoulder. His back was to me. I'm not sure if it was deliberate. He was speaking to Susan—the kitsune. But something I said had caught his attention. Slate held up a hand to her as I went on.
“This has been special, and I'm honored that you've come out to share the experience with me.” I smiled brightly. “I even have a song just for you, my new underground friends.”
I winked, and they went wild. Slate smirked at me and went back to talking to Susan. Oh, really, Zone Lord? You think you can ignore me? We'll see how long that works for you.
The clapping, frantic intro of Julian Moon's “Pomegranate Seeds” started; revving up the Quarry's energy in seconds. Beneathers started bouncing on their heels; their excitement already at an explosive level. Then I started to sing.
As soon as I mentioned the Devil, the women shrieked in delight, and Slate glanced at me again. He tried to turn away further, but Susan slid around him and moved toward the window. Slate obligingly followed.
The song was obviously about Persephone and Hades; how he kidnapped her and took her to the Underworld. But there was a twist on the old story; a hint that Persephone had turned things around on her captor and wrapped the powerful Hades around her little finger. Instead of becoming a slave to the God of the Underworld, she had become his queen.
I loved this song. It came closest to the truth. Persephone and Hades were family friends; I knew their story as well as I knew my own. Their myth was wrong; there had been no abduction. They had loved each other from the very start. If anyone had done any stealing, it was Persephone taking Hades' heart. But I wasn't singing to set the record straight. I was sending the Zone Lord another message. I couldn't seem to stop.
I stared up at Slate as I sang about getting my way in the end; about the power a woman has that a man can never take away from her. His eyes heated like those of Hades himself and his chin lifted in challenge. I smiled brightly back. Keep playing with me, Zone Lord, and you'll find out what the blood of a siren can do for a girl. Sirens were the ultimate seducers, but once you gave in to their call, you were dead.
That is; unless you were strong enough to survive their song.
Slate's stare clearly expressed his opinion on his own strength. But the way he turned on his heel and strode off in the middle of my song told me another story. The Zone Lord was getting spooked.
Then I saw them; the hooded figures that had been at the arena party. Slate wasn't spooked; he was distracted. Was this the disagreement he'd mentioned? Were these the men he was protecting me from? He stalked over to them and began a heated conversation. The way he jerked his hands and scowled reminded me of another argument I'd witnessed. The one that had nearly cost me my life.
I smiled wider; working the crowd and celebrating the music with them as I shot glances up at the trio. The hoods. The flashes of a camera. Slate's brother guarding me. It all led to one conclusion; these men wanted me dead. Why? Who the fuck were they? My body shivered with raging curiosity and a touch of fear. I was helpless here. If someone wanted to assassinate me, this would be a perfect time.
But I hid my anxiety under smiles and songs as I continued to entertain Slate's customers through two, hour-long sets. Slate had determined that three sets were too much for me, and he was right. No one should have to do three hours of singing; not even an immortal. But the crowd was hungry and demanding. I was barely able to gulp down some water between sets. When the second hour was over, they pounded their feet and shouted until I gave in and sang one more song.
And I was glad I did. Because near the end of the song, a woman fought her way to the stage. She waved her arms wildly—like everyone else—but something about her caught my eye. Her blonde hair was slicked back in a ponytail and there wasn't a lick of makeup on her. She gleamed purely among the painted throng.
Sara.
I nearly said her name into the microphone; I was so damn shocked to see my Shining One friend. Sara beamed at me as I sashayed over to her. I crouched down as if I were singing to her, and she flung her hand up to me like a fan. I grabbed it frantically and felt her slide something into my palm. She winked at me and disappeared into the crowd.
I tucked the paper into my cleavage and finished the song. As I sang, I searched the audience for any other familiar faces. My heart pounded. Was Torin there? Declan? Was I moments away from being in their arms? If I saw one of them, I'd fling myself from the stage and take my chances with the damn collar. I had enough confidence in their abilities to know they'd get me out alive. Damn; I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed them until that very moment—my eyes strayed up to Slate—and just how much I resented the Zone Lord for keeping me from them.
Slate looked down as if he'd felt my anger, and his forehead creased in curiosity. He even cocked his head, but I looked away. As soon as I had met Slate's gaze, a tingle had gone through me and my anger had faded. I tried to access my magic but nothing came; the collar was holding strong. Come on tingles! This would be an awesome time to short out my collar! But my magic remained smothered, and I didn't see any of my men.
Despite my heavy disappointment, I kept my smile in place as I ended the song, and then I hurried offstage; not waiting for the applause. I ducked behind the curtains and pulled out the note.
We are coming for you. Be ready. Six days.
Six days! I was shaking with excitement as I slipped the note back into my dress. Six days and I'd be with the men I loved again. No more blood-drenched sand, no more performing at the whim of an arrogant—
Slate appeared at the top of the stage stairs; his silver eyes glinting in the shadows of the curtained wing. “What are you doing?”
“Just catching my breath.”
Slate looked me over with narrowed eyes and then held his hand out to me. I took it; the crisp edges of the paper nudging my breast with a reminder that I wouldn't have to put up with this man for much longer. A wave of anxious energy surged through me, and I nearly stumbled. Slate caught me.
“Are you all right?”
“I don't know,” I whispered as I searched myself; from my mind to my magic and my head to my toes. There was something... off. A tightness in my chest and a tremor in my gut. “I don't know.”
“I'm taking you home,” Slate declared as he put an arm around my waist.
No, you're not, I thought to myself. My home is high in the sky, not under miles of stone. We are two diffe
rent creatures, Slate Devon; one meant to fly and one meant to dig. Soon, I shall fly again and leave you in the dirt.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“What are you doing?” I pulled on Slate's arm as he slipped through the crowd; heading toward the dance floor.
As soon as I stopped singing, Eli had to slam some music at the crowd or they'd go ballistic. Currently, Bryce Fox's “Horns” was playing. The beat was sexy and strong; perfect for some dance floor grinding, and that was just what most of the beneathers were doing.
Slate shrugged out of his jacket and flung it over the nearest railing. I was still looking at it in confusion when he pulled me against his chest and slid us into the middle of the mob. Dancers parted like hot butter for the knife of Slate's broad shoulders. Then we were there; beneath twinkling lights, surrounded by sweaty, groping beneathers. The lust was thick enough to drizzle over skin... and lick off.
Hips angling against mine, Slate led me with a hand pressed to my ass and another across my back. His stare was a prison; his hands my shackles. But this was one cell I didn't want to escape. Had I just been anticipating leaving him? Why? The body beneath my hands was thick with muscle and desire; hot, powerful, and hard against my thigh. His shoulders rolled; one hand moving from my ass to my left hand. Slate wove his fingers with mine and then flung me away.
I don't know how I spun without hitting anyone. I assume they parted for me. But even in the twirl, my stare sought Slate. I was almost disappointed when he pulled me back to him facing out; my back to his chest. But then my waist was encircled by his strong forearm; pressing me back until his shaft was cradled against my ass. Slate's free hand slid up, over my breasts, skimming my throat, and then caressed my face; turning it toward his.
It was just a brush of lips against lips, but it electrified my body. Those strange tingles shot through me again, and Slate inhaled sharply. He felt them too, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he swayed us through the chorus. The dangerous lyrics spun around us; a man succumbing to a succubus. Knowing she had a power over him that was beyond human but loving every second of it. With Slate pressed tightly against me—his hands roaming my body—the music became even more intoxicating. I was lost to it all.
The graze of fangs along my neck snapped me out of it. I jerked and spun to face Slate. He grinned down at me; showing off a pair of thick canines; more bloodhound than blooder. His eyes were brighter and his cheekbones higher. The gargoyle was peeking through.
Slate pulled me back against his chest and brushed his lips along the curve of my ear, “Don't run, Elaria. That would end badly.”
I swallowed roughly and forced myself to relax. This was so wrong; all of it. I needed to fight. I needed to push him away. Anything but stand there and let him hold me as if I were his. Because I wasn't. It was bad enough that I had let him touch me when I'd thought that I was dreaming. But this; wide awake and completely aware of what was happening. No; not acceptable, Elaria. You have men who love you and who you love. They were probably going crazy with worry over me, and there I was; dirty dancing with my captor. So fucked up. What was wrong with me? I didn't want Slate. I wanted to go home. I wanted to get married. I wanted...
A tingling seared my whole body, and I melted over Slate's chest. I expected him to laugh or growl in triumph. He didn't. He shivered and laid his face in the curve of my neck.
“What the fuck?” I whispered.
The tingling ran through me again. Shit; this wasn't my magic returning. This was another magic altogether. Someone was fucking with me; possibly with Slate and me both.
I jerked away and grabbed the front of his shirt desperately. “What do you feel?”
Slate blinked rapidly; the lust starting to fade from his eyes. “What? You expect me to spout poetry or something?”
“No; just tell me straight,” I growled. “What are you feeling right now; no romance or bullshit. I'm talking about your body. Physical sensations. Anything out of the ordinary?”
Slate's eyes narrowed and then his focus turned inward. “I see you and this shiver runs through me. I try to turn away, and your voice pulls me back.”
“It's not those tingles again?” I asked; trying to ignore the way my body leaned toward his automatically. “The energy we felt before?”
“No,” he said immediately. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “That never returned. Is that what you're feeling?”
“Yes, but it's gotten stronger,” I whispered and looked around the club suspiciously. “Any ideas on who would fuck with us like this?”
Slate's deadly eyes scanned the room as he started swaying with me absently. I wasn't sure if he was doing it subconsciously or if it was a camouflage; an attempt to look oblivious while he searched for our enemies.
“I may have a couple of names,” he muttered.
“Those hooded men? Who are they, Devon? Why do they want me dead?”
Slate's gaze flicked down to me and then away. “I will handle this.” He took a deep breath—his body shivering—and pushed me away determinedly. “Don't run; I'm barely holding back the beast. Walk away from me slowly. Meet me upstairs.”
I nodded and slipped into the crowd. They instantly closed around me. I glanced back; Slate's gleaming stare was still on me. I turned away from him and strode steadily through the dancers. Slowly. Don't run. Don't run. I made it to the edge of the dance floor and felt Slate moving behind me. Felt him! As if there were an invisible line running between us. Fuck! This had to be a spell.
I felt both instant relief and fear at the thought. Relief that I hadn't been betraying my lovers; someone had subtly enchanted me. It had been so slow and quiet that I hadn't suspected a thing. But if it wasn't me, then someone who had some serious juju was messing with me. They'd been able to not only infect me with their spell but also Slate. And I didn't peg him as a guy easily overcome by enchantment.
I made it up to Slate's private lounge; the bouncer at the bottom door giving me a little nod before he opened it for me. The cacophony of the club became blessedly muted and cool air hit my face. Without the heat from all the bodies below and the pound of the beat, I could think clearer.
I went behind the bar to pour myself a drink. I could think, but I was still shaking. I needed some liquid courage.
“So, you're the Spellsinger who has my brother in a twist,” a deep voice rumbled.
A man came out of a shadowy corner. I tossed back my shot before I turned to face this fresh hell. Because if this man was related to Slate, this was bound to be a torment. His brother; that made this guy...
“Binx, I presume,” I said as I looked him over.
Binx was bigger than Slate; a mammoth man that couldn't look harmless if he tried. The kind of big that's just too much. The guy's muscles had muscles. There was a resemblance to Slate in his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, but Binx had the face of a brawler. Thick nose, wide jaw, gargoyle-gray eyes. He narrowed those eyes at me as he crossed his bulging arms. He probably couldn't let them hang at his sides; they wouldn't fall right.
“That's right,” Binx rumbled. “And you're Elaria Tanager; the murderous whore.”
“Oh, wow; right to the point.” I chuckled. “I'll admit to the murderer part, but what makes you call me a whore?”
“The fact that you have five boyfriends and now you're after my brother.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Binx blinked in confusion. “No.”
“But you fuck a lot of girls.” Statement, not question.
“Of course.”
I rolled my eyes. “Does that make you a whore?”
“No; I'm honest with them,” he snarled. “They all know it's just sex.”
“So, I'm a whore because I committed to the men I love.” I strode out from behind the bar and stepped up to him. “If I just fucked them all, I'd be a good, honest person like you?”
Binx gaped at me.
Slate came into the room laughing. “She got you there, Brother.”
“Maybe I want something more than a meaningless fuck at the end of the night.” Slate slid me a warning look.
That startled me. If Binx were my brother, I'd want his help with our spell issue. But it was Slate's call; if he didn't want Binx to know, he probably had a good reason for it. Hell, maybe he suspected Binx of casting the spell. I didn't know what his family was like. He'd mentioned that his brothers had helped him build the Zone but that was it.
“Maybe you want more than a fuck?” Binx gaped at Slate; his arms falling to his sides as if he couldn't conceive of it.